RONIN
Yeah, Ronin is there too. Obviously. He steps into the increasingly tiny office with his hands buried in the pockets of his coat, standing next to Remi, jaw feathering as he gazes upon the little scene. It’s been a hell of a long time since he’s seen Loren Not-a-Launceleyn, and this isn’t how he’d have had it go. It isn’t how a lot of things should have gone, truthfully. Ronin has already chewed the inside of his cheek raw, and he listens to the speeches, the excuses, with rapidly fading patience.
”You are aware of course, that by holding the keys to all this information - the lilies, the metal, all the rest of it, that you’ve essentially got a whole race of people dancing on your strings? Your brother included?” He raises his eyebrows. ”I bet you’re really enjoying this, aren’t you? Who decided you were to be the master of puppets in all of this, exactly? The Governor of Torchline, the Queen of the Hollowed Grounds, Halo’s Warden... all of them waiting for little ol’ you?”
”You are aware of course, that by holding the keys to all this information - the lilies, the metal, all the rest of it, that you’ve essentially got a whole race of people dancing on your strings? Your brother included?” He raises his eyebrows. ”I bet you’re really enjoying this, aren’t you? Who decided you were to be the master of puppets in all of this, exactly? The Governor of Torchline, the Queen of the Hollowed Grounds, Halo’s Warden... all of them waiting for little ol’ you?”
one more wish for you
